


Like Real People Do

by SteRhubarb



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Instant Attraction, M/M, Marauders, Playing Hard to Get, Sort Of, Werewolf Reveal, ever after au, fairytale AU, hidden identity, lycanthropy, vague cinderella undercurrent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-03
Updated: 2018-01-06
Packaged: 2019-02-27 23:38:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13259013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SteRhubarb/pseuds/SteRhubarb
Summary: “Oh, I didn’t catch your name!” Sirius said desperately, as Remus climbed in and the bell dinged in preparation for the doors closing.“Uh, John.”“Johnwhat?” Sirius asked, frustrated.The doors began to shut and Remus simply raised his hands to shrug helplessly.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my first ever AU - I recently re-watched one of my favourite movies ever; Ever After with Drew Barrymore, and this is the result. For those who haven't seen the above mentioned masterpiece, it's a sort of Cinderella re-telling.  
> Also, welcome to my attempt at a chronological plotline, a.k.a. My Nightmare.

***

By seven o’clock in the evening Remus had finished putting the dishes away in the cupboards, made all of the beds, washed and hung the clothing out to dry, and then stood in his small room on the ground-floor and tugged his sweat soaked shirt over his head.  
  
  
  
He dropped it beside the bed, pocketed his wand, and trudged out into the back garden.  
  
  
  
At the bottom where the ground sloped down and a decades-old rotten fence gave itself up to the wildness of the moors beyond, Remus stopped and took a deep breath.  
  
  
  
Tipping his head up, he allowed himself a moment to admire the pastel smudge of the clouds on the horizon, a stretch of his aching bones, and then kept on going.  
  
  
  
He knew he could walk this route in his sleep by now, felt so strung-out and exhausted that he felt almost compelled to close his eyes and let his feet lead him there.  
  
  
  
But then, he noted, the times he almost stepped on an adder or tripped into a swamp, and so kept his eyes on the wild countryside that threw itself down at his feet the further he walked in, and soon he could hardly see the edge of the city over his shoulder.  
  
  
  
The lights of the back of the housing estate blurred and soon enough they were hidden by the hills.  
  
  
  
It was perhaps another fifteen minutes or so before he passed the first of the signs. Remus reached out and brushed his fingers over the wood out of habit as he passed one on his right.  
  
  
  
He put this one in himself, he recalled; a replacement for the one he had come across when first shown to the site; a rotten heap in the grass.  
  
  
  
The waist-high panel was accompanied by several dozen, positioned at 20 yard intervals around the perimeter, warning ramblers of treacherous bog beyond, and diverted them off to the East or West, depending how directly they were about to walk towards the shacks.  
  
  
  
Ten minutes beyond them, Remus stopped in front of three small wooden buildings, not unlike the average Muggle shed, sitting back to back with one another.  
  
  
  
The Disillusionment charm made them waver before his eyes, and he he had to squint slightly to see them before stepping inside the boundary.  
  
  
  
He shivered in the breeze that had picked up since the sun had begun to set, and set himself to putting down the usual series of concealing charms and protective wards around the place.  
  
  
  
All colour had begun to drain from the clouds by this time. The sky was now stained as if with charcoal, except at the ever-diminishing point on the horizon where the sun was sinking itself.  
  
  
  
His bones, in response, had started to weigh heavy inside his body, and the lethargy and dim light made him want to sink to the ground like the sun. He groaned aloud and plodded on.  
  
  
  
These were the worst moments, Remus reflected. If he ever came across somebody who asked, Remus would like to surprise them with this information.  
  
  
  
It’s not the change, he would tell them, though that part is horrific, but the time just beforehand, when you have to face the fact of what you are; alone.  
  
  
  
Deep in his thoughts, Remus had moved a circle around the buildings and as he raised his wand for the final ward to close the gap, he was snapped violently back to reality by a body, hurling itself through the underbrush from his right and colliding with him so forcefully that they were both knocked off their feet into the dirt.  
  
  
  
There was a resulting scuffle, within which punches were thrown and hands attempted to wrap around throats, but finally Remus grabbed a handful of the stranger’s cloak and tugged them around until they were pinned neatly between his knees.  
  
  
  
The grappling had inadvertently landed them in a puddle of mud, and after a moment of coughing together and swiping mud out of their mouths, Remus pressed the tip of his wand to a point just above the attacker’s Adam’s apple.  
  
  
  
“Wait, wait!”  
  
  
  
The voice was male and refined, and there was a hint of frustration amidst the pleading tone.  
  
  
  
Remus tugged at the cloth between his fingers, felt the roughness of an embroidered coat of arms, and noted a faint recognition of the symbols.  
  
  
  
“What is this?” Remus asked, still panting from the exertion, and tugged the crest up towards the man’s eyes. “Who are you? Some Pureblood hunter, or something?”  
  
  
  
A shake of the head rustled the grass beneath him. Remus bristled at the refusal to open his mouth for answers, and for that Remus pressed him further into the earth.  
  
  
  
“What do you think you’re doing?” he snapped. “Do you know how much danger you’re in, running in here?”  
  
  
  
The man tried to reach up for the wand, but Remus grasped his wrist tightly and pressed it into the dirt beside his head. The other hand was already being slowly crushed beneath his right knee.  
  
  
  
“Ow! Okay! Okay, I’m sorry- I’m sorry, all right? I’m just trying to get away from the city, I’m not here for anything.”  
  
  
  
“Didn’t you see the signs?” Remus growled, the blood heating in him now as the last rays of sun eked away. “Didn’t you think that maybe there was a reason--”  
  
  
  
“I was in a rush! I’m sorry I missed your private party notices!” the stranger retorted sarcastically, bucking beneath Remus in an attempt to throw him off.  
  
  
  
Remus, in retaliation, took him by a firmer hold at the scruff of the neck and shoved him harder into the dirt for emphasis.  
  
  
  
“They were _Ministry-sanctioned werewolf warning notices_ , you fucking idiot!”  
  
  
  
The body went very still beneath him as the information sank in, and then Remus could almost feel him trying to recoil away.  
  
  
  
It struck Remus, as it always did, how much the response continued to sting him, each and every time he encountered it.  
  
  
  
In response, he simply let go and pushed himself up out of the soil, to turn his back on the stranger.  
  
  
  
“Just get out,” he sighed, and gestured to the gap still to be closed in the wards. “Fast, like.”  
  
  
  
Instead of the scurrying sound of a person escaping the enclosure of a werewolf just minutes from a change, Remus heard the distinct rustling of a body picking itself up and lingering behind him.  
  
  
  
He turned to see the man holding out a pouch.  
  
  
  
The cloak and hood were shifted back into place. It shielded his face from recognition in the darkness, but Remus could still see a smear of blood on his chin.  
  
  
  
He stood just a step or so too far back, as if the extra distance would save him if Remus transformed suddenly, or decided to attack again.  
  
  
  
“Thank you for sparing my life,” the stranger said, uncertainly. “Please accept this money as thanks.”  
  
  
  
Remus stared, and it suddenly occurred to him how he recognised the coat of arms. The stars should have given it away, but the thoughtless tossing of money around really slotted the final piece into place - The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black, _of course_.  
  
  
  
“I don’t need your money,” Remus lied, exhausted now. “Just hurry up and _get out_ .”  
  
  
  
“Then, please,” the stranger continued, “accept it in return for your silence. If you hear anybody in search of a Black, tell them you saw nothing.”  
  
  
  
“Whatever,” Remus grumbled, struggling valiantly against that final tug. “Now fuck off.”  
  
  
  
He turned away and there was the sound of a bag of coins being dropped on the ground, and when he looked back, the man was gone.  
  
  
  
Barely a minute later Remus was locked inside one of the sheds. He knelt on the ground and gave himself over to the wolf, and in those last few seconds of agony did he only slightly curse himself for accepting the bribe of a Black. 

  
 

 

 

*** 

 

 

  
An hour prior to Remus leaving the house and setting out for the site, in a distant part of the city, Sirius Black stood back from his handiwork on the wall and grinned.  
  
  
  
He dropped to knife into the carpet, where it stuck in the wood with a thud and stood upright.  
  
  
  
He then paced to the door, heaved the wrought-iron doorstop into his arms, walked to the window, and threw it.  
  
  
  
The resulting crash was thrillingly loud. If he had stayed around long enough to find out, he would have known that it had woken the entire household and several of the neighbours - both magical and Muggle - but by the time his mother reached the doorway, he was gone.  
  
  
  
Walburga Black blasted the door practically off its hinges and screamed with rage when she saw the room beyond.  
  
  
  
A cool wind blew in through the broken window and glass littered the carpet, but most infuriating was the message slashed into the vintage silk damask wallpaper above the bed: ‘I would rather die’.  
  
  
  
Reluctance was only natural, she knew, especially from someone his age, and it wasn’t like it was the first time he had ran away in response to this decision - hijacking the Floo, threatening the house elf to side-long apparate, and duelling his own father had all been effective but not long term.  
  
  
  
It was a far more disgusting notion to Walburga Black to know that he had opted for an entirely un-magical method of escape this time around, and that she had been forced to consider it.  
  
  
  
She stood at the window, felt the crunch of glass beneath her heel, and took a deep sobering breath of the fresh night air.  
  
  
  
Finally, she turned to where the house elf, her husband, and her youngest son stood in the doorway, gaping openly at the scene. “Well he can die if he’d rather, but so long as that boy lives, he is my son and my heir, and he _will_ be married by the end of the month.”

  
 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Oh, I didn’t catch your name!” Sirius said desperately, as Remus climbed in and the bell dinged in preparation for the doors closing.
> 
> “Uh, John.”
> 
> “John _what?_ ” Sirius asked, frustrated.

It took the entire day and a half after for Remus to drag himself out of the shed and make his way back to the house.  
  
  
He took the trek slowly, and by the time he reached the lumps of old fence wood at the bottom of the garden his right arm was no longer broken.  
  
  
Inside, he ran himself a steaming hot bath and scrubbed the old blood and dirt from his skin until he was red raw, and w ith fresh clothes, clean bandages, and only a slight limp left over, he got back to work on the chores.  
  
  
He had been gone nearly two days and a new load of laundry was carelessly dumped beside his door so that it overflowed onto the flagstones, and the kitchen was strewn with dishes and had the distinct smell of burned toast.  
  
  
Remus lived with a woman who had for several years agreed to let him rent one of her closet spaces as a bedroom, and buy her discretion about his lycanthropy by performing household tasks.  
  
  
She let out the other rooms to various transients whom Remus only knew through the stains on their sheets and the hours they kept that prevented him from using the bathroom.  
  
  
She was Muggle, but had renown in the wizarding world as being the mother of a notorious werewolf.  
  
  
She admitted Remus to her home when he had explained that he in fact knew her only son, but opted to omit certain specific details.  
  
  
He had swallowed back the bile that stirred as he concocted a cover story about being an old friend of her son’s, and Mrs Greyback had accepted the closest thing she could get to having a man in the house.  
  
  
As she grew older, weaker, and more bitter, Remus was left with more of the work.  
  
  
It was the best he could hope for, and he consoled himself with the fact that at least he wasn’t on the streets again.  
  
  
By the time night had pulled itself back around, Remus was back where he started. Chores done, back aching, and a sweat-soaked shirt dropped onto the floor.  
  
  
He threw himself into bed and stared at the blood on the shirt collar until his eyes blurred and he plummeted into sleep.  
  
  
The next morning woke him with sunlight bright across his face.  
  
  
He dressed in his best shirt, the one with all of the original buttons on it, and his favourite jacket, with soft-worn patches on the elbows. He almost felt like himself when he wore these, but the frayed hems of his trousers and scuffed toes of his shoes shamed him from walking too tall.  
  
  
With fresh ointment on his lingering wounds and the bag of coins in his pocket, Remus set out for St. Mungo’s Hospital.

  
  
***

Remus made his way to the first floor and looked both ways along the corridor before entering the ward.  
  
  
Stopping at the reception desk, he smiled warmly and greeted the nurse sat there with a mumbled “‘Morning”, and then cleared his throat as he realised he wasn’t sure how to explain what he was here for.  
  
  
The nurse smiled expectantly up at him. “Visitor?”  
  
  
Remus shook his head and pulled out the money to place it on the desk.  
  
  
“I was wondering if I could submit a donation? To a- a part of the ward?”  
  
  
The nurse stood, beaming and nodding. “Of course! The Dai Williams Ward is probably one of the most needy departments in the whole hospital, and we are always grateful for donations to help with supplies and-”  
  
  
“Yes,” Remus interrupted as politely as possible, “but I was hoping it could go more towards research, or, or just care of a specific… injury.”  
  
  
The nurse frowned with confusion. “You seem to have something specific in mind, then. I’ll give you one of these forms - you have to fill one out anyway to log your donation, but if you write your idea down it will go to the hospital board to assign the money where you wish.”  
  
  
The form was placed down beside Remus’ hand, still curled around the pile of coins.  
  
  
“I _have_ to fill this in to be able to give you the money?” Remus confirmed, uncertain of putting his name down anywhere these days. He’d had the Ministry keeping tabs on him once before and it was uncomfortable to say the least.  
  
  
The nurse shrugged and then added in a conspiratorial tone, “You can make it anonymous, but then the money would just go wherever they wanted it to. Might not even be this department.”  
  
  
He had reluctantly been thinking about the money since it had dumped it at his feet, and it felt wrong to spend it on himself, although he was in dire need of it.  
  
  
This was the best place for it to go, but if it was going to bring trouble to do so, then was it really worth it?  
  
  
Without realising, Remus had begun to tap on the desktop, and the nurse was watching him with growing impatience.  
  
  
He stopped abruptly and glanced down the ward at the closed bedcurtains.  
  
  
“You don’t-” Remus started, and then thought to lower his voice. “- don’t have any werewolves in at the moment, do you?” he asked quietly, and the nurse frowned deeply.  
  
  
“Oh, _no_ , sir. Don’t worry. It’s quite uncommon, and we tend to put them to one side so as not to upset any of the other patients.”  
  
  
The nurse gestured to a narrow wooden door halfway down the ward that Remus would have mistaken for a medicine cupboard otherwise. It was open a crack and he could see a dim fluorescent light flickering inside.  
  
  
He sighed and finally reached over for the quill to begin scrawling his information into the assigned boxes.  
_  
  
Name: Remus J Lupin _ _  
_ _D.O.B: 10/03/60_ _  
_ _Address: London_ _  
_ _Amount: 35 G, 14 S_ _  
_ _Note: To be used in the research/care of Lycanthropy within the Creature-Induced Injuries Ward._ _  
_  
  
As he wrote the last part he heard someone pass on the corridor behind him, and shifted a hand to block the words from view. When he had finished, he asked for an envelope.  
  
  
“No need, sir. I’ll log it right away.” The nurse slid the form out from under Remus’ hand before he could stop him, and it was whipped around so that the amount could be analysed.  
  
  
“Very generous, Mr Lupin,” the nurse went on. “I’m sure I speak for not only myself, but all those in the department for-”  
  
  
The sentence was clipped short, and Remus shifted uncomfortably in anticipation.  
  
  
“Mr Lupin, are you certain of your aim for this donation? You’ve written… Well, what I mean to say is that there’s no definitive focus within the hospital for this. It’s just not common for healers to want to study this affliction.”  
  
  
“I _know_ ,” Remus said firmly. “Which is why I- _someone_ might appreciate the money going there.”  
  
  
“But, sir-" he inserted a joyless laugh here. "-there are far more worthwhile areas within the hospital in need of-”  
  
  
Remus slammed his fist on the counter and the coins jumped, along with the nurse, who shot a sharp look of appalled shock that made him quell and blush from embarrassment.  
  
  
He had trained himself over the years to not let this type of discussion get to him; had grown a thick skin against the prejudices that he observed or had directed at him on a daily basis, but he was tired and still aching, and sometimes when he was like this things cut faster to the quick.  
  
  
He tried to take a sobering breath. “I’m sorry. Just, are you going to take the money, or not?”  
  
  
“ _I’m_ sorry, sir,” the nurse replied, rather airily now, “we can take the money, but I’m _telling_ you that nobody in their right mind would put it into something so pointless!”  
  
  
“Bullshit!” Remus snapped. “What’s pointless about it?”  
  
  
The nurse folded his arms over his chest as if settling in for an argument. Unfortunately for him, Remus could argue this point until the cows came home.  
  
  
“They’re dragged in here with their bites, scaring all of the other patients, and there’s nothing that can be done for them. We patch them up, they get signed to the register, and that’s it - there’s no cure! They’re better off dead, and the money could be saved for someone who really needs the help.”  
  
  
Remus reeled slightly. “‘ _Better off dead_ ’? Do you think that everybody with an illness is better off dead, then?”  
  
  
The nurse scoffed. “Obviously not. They don’t all become dangerous animals once a month!”  
  
  
“ _Once a month_ ,” Remus emphasised. “And the rest of the entire month? They’re people, like you or m-me. And they deserve to be able to do that as best they can!”  
  
  
“ _Who_ are just people like you and me?” a voice suddenly asked from behind Remus.  
  
  
A cursory glance over his shoulder allowed Remus to take in the undiluted, inky blackness of the hair, the unblemished skin, and angular cut of the jaw that all screamed of Pureblood breeding, but it was the healing gash across the perfect chin that stunned Remus into silence.  
  
  
It was just the type of shit luck that Remus was beginning to understand he was going to get today.  
  
  
He turned back to the desk and lowered his head slightly in the hopes that he wouldn’t be recognised in return as easily.  
  
  
“Mr Lu-”  
  
  
“ _John_ .”  
  
  
The nurse pursed his lips, but amended, “ _Mr John_ is giving his Pro-Life speech on Lycanthropy.”  
  
  
“Oh?” The mystery Black raised a curious eyebrow at Remus and rested an elbow on the desk to listen. His clothes were less obvious than the emblazoned cloak he had been wearing the previous day, and he almost looked like a Muggle. “Please, continue. I love a good debate.”  
  
  
Remus considered just leaving, but the way he was being looked at hinted at the fact that the stranger had no idea who he was. Plus, there was something smug about the pair of them together that made him want to hit his point home. Remus cleared his throat.  
  
  
“Well, I just think that, if you suffer these people to be feared and ostracised, and considered _lesser_ people- _animals_ \- _Dark Creatures_ and nothing more, because of an accident that was no fault of their own, then who can we blame but ourselves when the accidents continue to happen? How do we reasonably expect these people to not resent us, when we’re spending no time helping them, but just casting them out and leaving them to _die_ ?”  
  
  
Remus looked pointedly at the nurse and finally pushed the pile of coins across the desk towards him. “We’re failing them, and we’re failing ourselves, to not pursue a greater understanding of the curse and how we can help them.”  
  
  
The stranger gazed at Remus for a silent moment with a small smile, and then stood up straight and offered out his hand. “I’m S-" he began, and then snipped the word off before he'd really begun.  
  
  
His eyes darted around the ward, took in the nurse with head down and pretending not to listen, and when he resolved to continue, did so rather quieter and like he was giving something up to admit it. "Sirius.”  
  
  
Remus shook his hand swiftly and then let it go. “Nice to meet you, Sirius,” he said with a tight smile, and then stepped around him and began to leave.  
  
  
Footsteps followed him back out of the ward and into the main corridor. As he called for the elevator, Sirius sidled up and stood beside him.  
  
  
Remus sighed and pretended to be interested in the plasterwork around the elevator door.  
  
  
“You seem to know a lot about Lycanthropy,” Sirius said, shockingly forthright, so that Remus couldn’t check himself before turning to look at him. He was smiling back in a curious way that meant Remus couldn’t not answer.  
  
  
“Not really,” he lied. “I mean, maybe a bit. I guess you could say I'm interested in the correct treatment of magical creatures.”  
  
  
“A passive interest? Or are you one of these types who protest the Beast and Being Division outside of the Ministry?”  
  
  
“One of ‘ _those types’_ ,” Remus confirmed with a grin.  
  
  
Sirius returned the look.  
  
  
“I like that.” Sirius said frankly. “I like the way you talk about what you’re passionate about.”  
  
  
Remus found that he did have to glance away again, then, as a little heat began to creep into his cheeks.  
  
  
“...thanks.” He coughed.  
  
  
“I don’t know what that was about, back there with the orderly, but you spoke very confidently and knowledgeably, and- I mean, you convinced me.” Sirius gave a half-shrug.  
“I’d never really thought about it fully like that before.”  
  
  
“A lot of people haven’t. They don’t _want_ to think about it, is the trouble.” Even as he continued to speak, Remus was astonished at his own replies.  
  
  
_How did this guy do it?_ he thought.  
  
  
Remus was brilliant at keeping his mouth shut when he didn’t want to talk, and here he was, running on at the slightest prompting from Sirius.  
  
  
Luckily, just then, the elevator arrived.  
  
  
“I’d love to hear more of your thoughts on this type of thing. Educate me a bit more, you know?” Sirius offered eagerly, as Remus side-stepped out of the way for those exiting the lift.  
  
  
“Um, sure,” he mumbled, half-heartedly, and with half a hope of never crossing paths with the man again.  
  
  
“Oh, I didn’t catch your name!” Sirius said desperately, as Remus climbed in and the bell dinged in preparation for the doors closing.  
  
  
“Uh, John.”  
  
  
“John _what?_ ” Sirius asked, frustrated.  
  
  
The doors began to shut and Remus simply raised his hands to shrug helplessly.  
  
  
They thudded closed and he felt a little guilty, that it was so very obvious he had time to call the rest out before they were cut off, but the whole interaction had felt so... dangerous.  
  
  
He had felt like the entire time was spent worryingly close to talking about something that would reveal an awful lot about who he really was.  
  
  
It was a lucky escape, he thought, as the lift shuddered and jostled him against the other occupants. However, he couldn’t help but marvel at a second feeling, something a little like _disappointment_ , swimming underneath the relief.

***

Sirius stood in front of the lift doors, staring at the shining metal for a few moments, utter disappointment washing over him.  
  
  
Then, not one to miss a trick, he paced back into the Dai Williams Ward and up to the nurse, who looked up from his paperwork, surprised.  
  
  
“Could I see the donation form that the gentleman who just left submitted, please?”  
  
  
The nurse looked genuinely apologetic. “I’m afraid I can’t, as it has confidential information on, sir.”  
  
  
“I just need a surname,” Sirius asked, very politely. “I already know the John part.”  
  
  
The nurse frowned, almost pityingly at Sirius, and seemed to come to a decision with himself.  
  
  
He sighed and slipped the form halfway out of the folder, and pointed to the top line.  
  
  
Sirius leaned over the desk to read: _Remus J Lupin_ .  
  
  
“Oh, no, this isn’t--” he started, and then grinned to himself, and began to laugh delightedly. “ _Oh!_ ”

 


End file.
